


Bored

by Zhie



Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [7]
Category: The Children of Hurin - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Cultural Differences, Family Dinners, Intervention, M/M, Oral Sex, listening to your roommates having sex, mention of dubcon, rekindling sexual intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: At a family dinner, many secrets are revealed--most of them related to the intimate details of the lives of those living in the House of Maedhros.
Relationships: Beleg Cúthalion/Túrin Turambar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon, Edrahil/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien), Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Tuor/Voronwë (Tolkien)
Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594654
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Bored

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaisingCaiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/gifts).



> I'm having too much fun in this AU. I'm just going to keep poking around here until I get (see title of fic). ;)

Sometimes, the house was boring. On the seventh week of Mairon’s release, Erestor had business in town. It was the first time Mairon was without direction for his day, and he spent the first few hours sitting by himself in the dining room after eating breakfast. He brought his tree with him--he brought the sapling with him everywhere, whether he was in the bedroom, dining room, library, or bathing chamber. He was in the dining room watching it when Fingon stopped home to have lunch. “Are you here alone?” asked Fingon cautiously after exchanging greetings.

“Erestor is busy,” was all Mairon offered.

Fingon tried not to appear guilty. Since Mairon’s arrival, everyone had more or less ignored him, with the exception of Celebrimbor and Erestor. Neither was home, nor was anyone else, and so, here Mairon sat. “What are your plans for the afternoon?” called Fingon from the kitchen as he prepared a meal for both of them.

“Plans?”

“Yes, what are you going to do? What did you do this morning?”

Mairon looked at the tree. “I sat. I suppose I shall sit.”

Fingon finished cooking as he contemplated ideas to offer. When he entered the dining room and set a plate of food in front of Mairon and placed another down for himself, he said, “You do not need to confine yourself to this one room if no one is around.”

Mairon looked down at the toasted cheese sandwich and pickled vegetables on the side. “I did not want to intrude.”

“There are a lot of places in the house you can go. Down in the basement is a library, and there is a sub-basement with more books and a room with a billiard table. Now, billiards are less fun alone, but still, fun. Oh, and a dart board! Just make sure you close the door into the library before you shoot any darts, just in case. You would not want to hit any of the books. And the gardens, you could...oh. No, I suppose you could not,” said Fingon sadly.

“No, I could not,” said Mairon solemnly. “I like the idea of the library.”

“That is great,” replied Fingon enthusiastically. “Erestor keeps really great care of it, and he has all the best books there, and--well, I should let you ‘check it out’ for yourself.” Fingon grinned.

“I will do that.” Mairon quietly ate while Fingon described the plans for some bookcases he was making for a family nearby who had hired him to remodel their foyer. When they finished eating, Fingon offered to clean up while Mairon explored the house. Mairon picked up his sapling and carried it carefully with him to the basement.

  
  


Sixteen minutes into dinner, Maedhros sat with his fork hovering close to his mouth. There were several small conversations happening in the room, but he was distracted by something just down the table from him. Rather, it was something that was not happening. Mairon was sitting with his hands in his lap, staring at his food. He said nothing and did nothing. Maedhros nudged Fingon with his elbow.

Fingon looked up, glanced around, saw the direction Maedhros pointed his fork, and cleared his throat. “Is the meal not to your liking, Mairon?” asked Fingon.

Mairon slowly lifted his head. All eyes were on him from both tables. “No, sir,” answered Mairon meekly. He had called Finrod by his name earlier that evening, and Edrahil poked a finger at his face at the time, telling him he had no right to use Finrod’s name. So far that evening, Mairon only used ‘sir’ when addressing anyone. It seemed to make Celebrimbor uneasy.

“Is there a reason you are not eating?” asked Fingon.

Mairon looked to Celebrimbor beside him, and then to Fingon. “Yes, sir,” he answered just as softly, like an uncertain and scared child.

“Do tell,” said Tuor when no further indication was given.

“I left Elenna somewhere and I meant to retrieve her, but I only just remembered now.” Mairon swallowed hard. “I should like to retrieve her.”

There was a little murmuring at both tables, and the words, “The name for the sapling,” came from Erestor to Glorfindel. Maedhros looked at Fingon, and then gave Mairon a nod. “If it would help you eat, go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mairon pushed the chair back and left the room hastily. He could be heard walking up the stairs. 

“Would anyone care to take in a play this evening?” asked Edrahil. “Finrod and I were planning to go right after supper.”

“I thought Glorfindel was going to read poetry in the living room,” said Voronwë. “That was tonight, was it not?”

“It is, but I will take no offence to those who wish to go to the theatre.”

Meanwhile, Maedhros looked upwards with an odd expression. Fingon touched his arm, and Maedhros scratched his chin. Fingon set down his fork, and Maedhros titled his head.

“Is everything alright?” Voronwë set his utensils down now, too.

At the next table, Erestor wiped his mouth with his napkin and began to stand up. “I will go upstairs under the guise of wanting to help if you do not want him unattended up there.”

“He can be on the second floor, but I heard him go further up,” said Maedhros. He tapped the table until Mairon was heard coming back down the stairs. When Mairon sat down at the table and set the sapling just beyond his plate, Maedhros said, “You were gone for quite a while.”

“I wanted to make sure I did not spill any of the dirt,” explained Mairon.

Maedhros licked his lips. “Where was your plant, by the way?”

Mairon was adding a little water to the pot from his own glass. “She was on the window in your bedroom. You have the perfect southern exposure for her.”

Eyes narrowed. “Why was she--it--in my bedroom?”

Mairon looked up abruptly, eyes wide. “Well...I...Fingon told me it was alright.”

Both Mairon and Maedhros looked at Fingon now, who shook his head. “I said...oh.”

“Oh?” prodded Maedhros.

“Oh...I said...oh. Well, I meant the basement and this floor,” said Fingon.

“But you said the house,” guessed Maedhros.

“Were you in our room?” The question from Edrahil was growled.

“I do not know,” admitted Mairon. “I just...I walked around and looked out windows. I wanted to see the trees. Elenna wanted more sun, so I placed her where the sun was the best.” 

Maedhros folded his hands while Fingon squirmed with unease. “And that was all you did?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mairon.

“You just...looked out the window and placed the plant there?”

“Yes, sir.” Mairon gulped. 

Maedhros and Fingon exchanged a look. After a moment, Maedhros picked up his fork again.

“Sir, if I might ask--why do you have a flogger beside your bed?” 

Maedhros threw his fork down onto the table and crossed his arms over his chest. Fingon covered his face with both hands and groaned. “How long did you spend in the room, Mairon?” asked Maedhros.

Mairon bit at his fingernails. “I did not mean to be there very long, sir, but there was so much to see. I never thought anyone would have chains and restraints in their bedroom.”

“Oh!” That response came from Glorfindel, who covered his mouth. Finrod shuddered and Edrahil put an arm around Finrod. The others either looked at something random to avoid eye contact or studied Fingon and Maedhros, who were nervous and perturbed, in that order. Only Erestor seemed unfazed as he continued to eat.

Fingon coughed. “Different people have different...interests.”

“I see.” Mairon sipped some water. The others awkwardly began to eat again in silence. “Like...hobbies.”

“Yes,” answered Celebrimbor. “Hobbies.”

“Like the gardening that Erestor and Glorfindel do?”

“Sure, like that,” Celebrimbor said.

“Mmm.” Everyone continued eating for a little while. Then Mairon said, “And for Fingon and Maedhros, it is fornication.”

Maedhros threw his fork down on the table.

Fingon took a different approach. “Everyone has sex. I would not necessarily call it a hobby.” 

“Every night?”

Erestor raised a brow. He was the only one still eating.

“Some people do,” defended Fingon.

“And before dinner?”

Erestor lifted the other brow.

“How do you even know that?!” Fingon looked to Maedhros for backup.

Maedhros pushed his plate away. “Yes, how do you know that?”

Mairon worried the napkin in his lap. “I could hear you. I have these really big ears, you see, and I can hear a lot of things.”

Many uncertain glances were exchanged around the table.

“Alright, well…” Maedhros sighed. “It is not uncommon for two people in a domestic relationship to be intimate with one another. Fingon and I might engage in these activities slightly more often than others, but I think you will find that it is quite normal and not exactly a ‘hobby’.”

“Everyone has sex,” added Fingon.

Finrod, who had been staring into his bowl, now looked up with cheeks red and whispered softly, “Not everyone has sex.”

“Alright, fine, maybe not you,” Fingon said. 

Finrod looked back down again. “There is no shame in it.”

“Of course not, sweetness,” Edrahil assured him. He pulled his chair beside Finrod’s chair and pulled him close so that Finrod could snuggle against him. As Finrod did so, Edrahil gestured rudely at the general direction of the other table without a specific person in mind. 

“I just...I mean...people can tell, right? Or maybe not,” fretted Finrod, his voice muffled against Edrahil’s shoulder. “But I feel like, my mother, she would know--she knew when Amarië and I did. Of course, that was a really long time ago, and my mother has many other things that occupy her and--”

“Finrod, it is fine. You have to do what you are comfortable doing,” offered Maedhros. “It is actually...somewhat refreshing to know that someone can have such a long relationship with someone without having to have sex.”

Lifting his head, Finrod wiped his nose. “Really?” he asked, eyes watering.

“Yes,” confirmed Maedhros despite the fact it was now Edrahil who was glaring at him, unseen by Finrod. “Although...you can always revisit that choice later in life,” Maedhros added quickly.

“Oh, this is fine. For both of us. Right, Sugarbaby?”

Edrahil pressed his lips together. “Mmmhmm,” was his reply.

Finrod snuggled him again, and Edrahil patted Finrod while giving Maedhros a look of envy.

“Besides...having sex is not always a completely positive experience,” offered Fingon. “Right, Erestor.”

Aghast, Erestor actually stopped eating. “Why are you asking me that?”

Uneasy laughter came from Fingon. “Well...obviously because you and Glorfindel are married. None of the rest of us took that step.”

“And?” Erestor began to tidy up his spot at the table. “Just because someone gets married does not mean they are having sex.”

“But...you married Glorfindel,” Fingon practically exclaimed. “How is he not having sex?”

Erestor tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?” He turned his head to catch the tail end of Glorfindel motioning to Fingon to shut the fuck up. “What is he talking about, husband?”

“Uh…”

“You never told him?” asked Fingon.

“With all due respect, Maedhros, can you get him to stop talking?” Glorfindel angrily threw his napkin onto the table.

“Dinner really is much more interesting with Mairon here,” whispered Voronwë to Tuor.

“Well?” asked Erestor. Whether subconsciously or not, he was turning his knife over and over on the tabletop just to the side of his plate. 

Glorfindel cleared his throat. “I am trying to figure out how to explain this,” he said quietly. “Having an audience does not help.” There was a blush creeping up behind his freckles.

“Well, he has a name,” offered Fingon. “There was this elf named--”

Maedhros managed to come to the rescue--sort of-- by clamping his hand over Fingon’s mouth. “Darling, remember how we used to talk about how when you say all of the things that come to mind without thinking them over first, you regret it later?” Fingon nodded, and Maedhros spoke again. “Before you say anything else, count to five in your head and think it over.” Fingon nodded again.

Glorfindel sighed. “I had a lover in Gondolin. His name is inconsequential. We grew up in Valinor, and…” He glanced at Fingon. “When we were younger…”

Fingon, who was sitting quietly, began to tick off his fingers. Glorfindel noticed on the fourth one, and blurted out, “It was a long time ago and we were young and horny,” as Fingon announced, “They had sex a lot.”

Glorfindel groaned and bowed his head, but Erestor reached out a hand and patted his shoulder. “No, that is fine. It was before me. I do not care about that,” said Erestor, and he truly sounded relaxed. “Besides, if you had showed up a day later--an hour later, truly--I would still be living in some random forest with my wife.”

“W-w-what? Wife? What?” Glorfindel blinked with mouth agape.

“She was actually nice, I think. Whatever her name was,” said Erestor. “At least, that was what my parents told me. They arranged the marriage for me.”

“And I thought we could have lively nights in Thingol’s halls,” Beleg remarked to Túrin.

“Your wife?” asked Glorfindel again when he found his voice.

Erestor nodded. “Technically, we did say the vows and...the rest, but, then, there you were.”

“The rest?” It was Glorfindel’s turn to scrutinize. “What is there beyond vows?”

“For the Avari? A lot of ceremonial things,” Erestor said. “But, does it really matter? You and I have had a very loving marriage.”

Glorfindel frowned, but did not press the issue.

Beleg, who had listened most intensely to the conversation, now interjected. “Erestor, you are not doing him any favors. You might as well tell him.” 

Erestor tapped his fingers on top of the table. He let out a long, low noise that was reminiscent of a forest cat. 

“Do you want me to explain to him?” offered Beleg.

Erestor stretched and shook his head. He physically turned his chair so that he was facing Glorfindel. “I know that you never did much research on the Avari. For a while I thought, maybe I could get over it. I think I did rather well adapting to other customs and such.” Erestor took hold of Glorfindel’s hand. Glorfindel turned his chair as well, and leaned in a little closer. Erestor closed his eyes before he continued. “I guess I wanted to protect you? Or...no, not that...I felt...maybe I felt unworthy, or that it was too much to ask.”

“What is he talking about?” hissed Fingon to Maedhros. He was gently shushed.

Erestor opened his eyes and bit his bottom lip. “Do you remember what I looked like when you first met me?”

Glorfindel smiled a little. “I still recall as if it was yesterday. You were much the same as you are, though your hair only came to about your chin. You were also dressed casually; you are much more formal now.”

“So, about all that--you came into the camp on my wedding night,” said Erestor. “I was ‘casually’ dressed in what I was about to wear--or not wear for very long--to bed. The reason my hair was so short was a customary ritual sort of thing,” explained Erestor. “Avarin elves cut their hair at the end of the ceremony, before we consummate the marriage.”

Glorfindel was very silent. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Hair is something that carries similar connotations in the Avarin culture as it does for the Noldor. It is a symbol of sexuality. Once an Avari is married, they do not need to flaunt their sexuality. They have chosen a mate, and it is a symbol of loyalty and fidelity,” said Erestor. “It seemed cruel to even suggest you give up your hair--and you never mentioned a desire to have sex.”

“That is a very unfortunate custom for him to learn about,” said Tuor to Voronwë. When Glorfindel did not respond to Erestor, Tuor said for all to hear, “I think you broke him.”

“What about your wife?” asked Glorfindel. “Did she cut her hair, too?”

“Of course. It was just a rite of passage,” said Erestor. “Besides, it was convenient for parents, and I just assumed up until that point that I would be a father, and from a practical standpoint, no one wants children pulling their hair.”

“Or, putting strange substances in it,” spoke up Maedhros, seemingly from experience.

“Is ANYone having sex other than me?” Fingon seemed to have forgotten the five second rule.

Maedhros raised his hand. 

“I know you are,” Fingon said. “I meant the rest of you!”

“Not us,” spoke up Túrin. He reached out to squeeze Beleg’s hand. “That is a decision mutually made,” he said.

“No one has to have sex to make love,” added Beleg. He and Túrin turned to boop their noses together and share a loving kiss.

“How does that even make sense? ‘Making love’ and ‘sex’ are the same thing,” argued Fingon.

Beleg shrugged. “Says you. We have our own way of making love.”

“How?” prodded Fingon before Maedhros could give another reminder about not saying words before they were considered.

The pair looked a little taken aback by Fingon’s question, but Túrin answered. “We cuddle and we nuzzle, and we curl up together next to campfires and recount stories we both had a part in. I braid his hair and he brushes mine, and we keep so close that we breathe the same air, and fall asleep in each other’s arms.”

Celebrimbor yawned, and Tuor chuckled. “You know,” he said, looking to Voronwë, “we have gone far too long since the last time we shared intimacies.”

Voronwë grinned and pushed his food around on his plate without looking up. “Well, I must say, I would be very much inclined--especially after listening to some of what we can hear on the other side of the wall.” Now Voronwë looked up, pointedly at Mairon.

It took Mairon a moment to respond--he had been fussing with the soil in the pot--but once he figured out Voronwë was referencing him, he shook his head. “None for me. Not yet. Eventually, I will earn it, though.” He looked longingly at Celebrimbor, who glared back.

Túrin furrowed his brow. “You have to be kidding. We can hear the two of you from across the hall.” Beleg gently smacked Túrin’s thigh. “No, but, honestly--it only took one night of hearing ‘oh, master, this and that’ to know what was going on in there.”

“Turambar,” scolded Beleg.

Fingon began to wring his hands. “If you can hear them in their room--”

“Yes, we can all hear what you are doing. Maybe not what you are doing, but you are most certainly doing something,” confirmed Túrin. 

“Surprising how loud he can be even though there was a leather gag on the shelf,” supplied Mairon.

With a groan, Fingon covered his face. Maedhros gave Celebrimbor, not Mairon, a warning look and announced, “Dinner is over. Everyone, go to bed. Or to your rooms,” he hastily added when Tuor smirked at Voronwë.

“Just a moment--I have a query,” Beleg said. He pointed at Mairon. “Do you mean to say, despite all we have heard going on, you have not had sex?”

Mairon thought deeply about the question. He stroked the leaves of his sapling. 

Celebrimbor cleared his throat. “I think what he means is we have a firm understanding of our relationship and we both agree that it is perfect. Right, Mairon?”

“Well…”

Celebrimbor narrowed his eyes.

Mairon bowed his head. “Yes, sir. I am…I am sorry.”

Erestor stroked his chin and watched the scene before him. “Mairon?” Timidly, Mairon looked up. “Mairon, do you enjoy what you and Celebrimbor are doing? Upstairs, behind closed doors?”

“Erestor, I think that is quite inappropriate,” bristled Celebrimbor. “How would you like it if I asked Glorfindel how he felt about his current relationship?”

“Go ahead. Ask him,” dared Erestor.

Celebrimbor motioned to Glorfindel. “Well?” he demanded.

Glorfindel, caught in a difficult situation, looked down at his lap. “A little confused, to be honest.”

Erestor slid an arm around Glorfindel in an attempt to comfort him. “Mairon? Have you an answer?” While waiting, Erestor kissed the side of Glorfindel’s forehead, and Glorfindel leaned against Erestor.

“I suppose I might like a hug once in a while,” said Mairon softly.

“And what about things that are currently happening?” Beleg asked. “Are there things you do not want him to do?”

“That is very inappropriate and confrontational,” Celebrimbor said loudly.

“I want an answer,” Beleg said, raising his voice as well.

Mairon swallowed hard. “I like all of it,” he said quickly. And then, “At least, Celebrimbor tells me I do.”

Celebrimbor slammed his fist down on the table; Elenna’s pot tipped over and some of the dirt spilled onto the table. Mairon grabbed for his sapling to upright the tiny tree. “Leave that. You and I are going upstairs--now.” Celebrimbor came around the table and made a grab for Mairon’s arm. 

Beleg was just a little faster. “No. You leave. Go on. Go upstairs before I punch you.”

Celebrimbor looked aghast, but Maedhros, who was on his feet now as well, pointed to the door that led to the hall. “I agree with Beleg. You are going upstairs now, but he stays here.” Even though Maedhros did not tower over Celebrimbor, it was enough, and Celebrimbor retreated upstairs. 

Meanwhile, Beleg and Erestor helped Mairon to get the soil back into Elenna’s pot. Mairon clutched the plant close as Beleg brought him into the living room to sit down. Erestor joined them; Glorfindel soon followed and took up residency beside Erestor. “What has he done to you?” asked Beleg once the small group was seated. Maedhros went upstairs to deal with his nephew, while the others cleaned up the dinner tables or just listed at the door.

When all was said, Beleg decreed that Mairon was not going to spend the night in the room with Celebrimbor and that he and Túrin would keep him in their room, for they had two beds in their domicile, and Beleg and Túrin could easily use a single bed if needed. Tuor and Voronwë saw to retrieving Mairon’s belongings, what few there were, from the room he had been sharing with Celebrimbor. Fingon was nowhere to be found; Finrod and Edrahil had disappeared as well. This left Erestor and Glorfindel to take care of the dishes from dinner.

They worked in silence for a little while, but when Glorfindel accidentally brushed Erestor’s hand while reaching for a bowl, he pulled back momentarily before grasping Erestor’s wrist. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Tell you what?” asked Erestor.

“Tell me about the...everything,” Glorfindel said.

Erestor twisted his arm away gently and picked up the bowl to scrub it. “You seemed happy, we were happy.” Erestor sighed, rinsed the bowl, and set it on the rack to dry. He wiped his hands with a rag. “Do you remember the day after we started to plan our wedding?”

“I remember some things from it. There was a lot going on that week,” reminded Glorfindel.

“Mmmhmm. But that second day, I asked what you were going to do with your hair for the wedding, and you asked me what I meant, and I told you I was thinking of cutting mine and you had a minor crisis.” Erestor watched Glorfindel shudder again. “Right. So just imagine if I had asked you to cut your hair. I told you I would adopt to your customs, but this is something that is a part of me, and I will not force you to do it, but then I just cannot see us having sex. And that is why we are still virgins.”

“Technically--”

“Yes, noted, I understood what was said earlier.” Erestor returned to washing dishes.

Glorfindel picked up a drying rag and began to work on the damp pile of dishes. “Why?” he quietly asked after a few minutes. 

“Why what?”

“Why is it important to you? And why do your people do it? Where does the custom come from?”

Erestor was working on a particularly difficult pan that had some burned cauliflower at the bottom. As he scrubbed it, he told Glorfindel the same story he was told when he was a boy. “There were once two elves who loved one another very much. Together they would talk of many things, and walk in the woods, and hunt and cook together. More than anything else, they loved each other’s hair, as is the way of all elves. They would brush each other’s hair and braid flowers into it and lovingly wash it in the river. Eventually, they decided they wanted to bond. They wed in the springtime, under the stars. It was a beautiful wedding. They were very happy, for a time. They even had a child. Soon after the baby was born, they began to fight over many things. Sometimes it was over the amount of time one of them spent washing and brushing their hair while the other took care of the child. Sometimes it was over the baby, and how the child would pull on their hair and tangle it up, and over who even wanted the child in the first place.”

“None of this applies to us,” Glorfindel said during the pause. “We are never having children.”

“Hush. There is more. One night, after a very trying day, the elf woman was unable to sleep. She left the tent with her husband and sleeping child and went down to the river. While she was there, she encountered a beautiful elf man she had never seen before. He declared she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes upon, and that he had never seen such glorious hair. She wept to him about the situation she was in, and at the riverside, they made love to one another.” 

Glorfindel placed the last of the clean dishes into the cabinets as Erestor dried the pot he had been scouring. This, too, was put away, and Erestor joined Glorfindel at the counter. There were no chairs, so they simply stood on opposite sides. “Meanwhile,” continued Erestor, “the elf man awoke, and found he was alone with the child, who was asleep. He went to look for his wife, thinking she was not far away, but that she would have gone into the woods. While he did not find her, he did find another elf woman there. She was tall and lovely, with blond curls, and she beckoned him to walk with her. She told him how handsome he was and how amazing his long locks were, and he complimented her, and after telling his tale of woe, the two of them made love in a thicket surrounded by oak trees.”

Erestor retrieved a glass of water and took a drink before he finished the tale. “In the early hours, both the elf man and elf woman returned to their tent, each planning to keep their secret from the other. They arrived to find a trail of blood leading out of the tent. They followed it in horror, only to discover that their child, unprotected, was stolen away by coyotes, who were finishing their meal. Since then, my people have known the perils of vanity. We protect the young adults, whose hair is their glory, to attract a mate and show affection to one another. After taking a mate, we sever that tie to our youth, and move into our adult roles. Hair should no longer be necessary, for courtship is no longer necessary.”

“Is that a real story?” asked Glorfindel when Erestor stopped to drink again.

“Is the singing of everything into existence a real story?” countered Erestor.

“Fair point,” admitted Glorfindel. He reached out for the glass of water and drank half of it. “So, when I met you, that was your wedding, you had just cut your hair.”

“Yes. Just a few hours earlier.”

“How long was it before then?”

Erestor smiled sadly. “Longer than yours. I obviously let it grow, but I kept it at a reasonable length.” Erestor’s hair was, and had been for some time, just to the middle of his back. 

“I would have liked to have seen that,” said Glorfindel wistfully. “I bet your wife was upset that you left her, considering she cut her hair, too.”

“Yeshh...umm…” Erestor toyed with the fingers from Glorfindel’s hand that was not holding the glass of water. “Do you recall the three people who came to speak with me before we left to go to Imladris?” Erestor waited until Glorfindel nodded. “One of them was my father, one of them was her father, and one of them was my younger brother.”

“Oh...that sounds really bad,” Glorfindel said. “They must have all been mad at you.”

“They, um...well, yes.”

“They seemed pretty calm.”

“I was told in no uncertain terms that if I left, I was never to come back. My father was the chieftain, so it was very dramatic. My brother offered to take my place, so I know that, um, the woman...I wish I could remember her name, but I only met her about half a moon cycle prior. Well, anyhow, I know she was well taken care of.”

“Your father was the chieftain.”

“Yes.”

“Are you the eldest?”

“Yes. So, yes, I was to eventually take over, and clearly that was why there was an expectation I would father children. I did not want to burden you with all of that. I made up something about...well, I know I made up a lie to tell you, because I was not about to reveal all of that. You were injured, and you needed to get back home.”

“You gave up your wife, and your people--your culture, your title, and everything, to take me back to Imladris. Erestor, why did you never tell me? And...why?”

“Look in a mirror and you will know why.” Erestor reached out and drew his fingers through Glorfindel’s golden waves. “I fell in love with you. I had never seen anyone like you before. You were--are--so beautiful.”

Glorfindel’s eyes watered. “Why did you not tell me then?”

“How could I tell you that? I was unworthy of such beauty--I had to become this to even have a chance,” said Erestor.

“What? No! I mean, I love how you look, yes, but I would still love you if you cut your hair and wore the clothing of your people,” Glorfindel said. “Oh, Erestor.” Glorfindel came around to take Erestor in his arms and they kissed with great passion several times. 

After the seventh kiss, Erestor placed his hands on Glorfindel’s chest. “I just...I want to make something clear. I know you think the ritual is dumb. You pointed out that we will never have children. I understand that. I have been happy with our relationship; I believe I will remain happy with our relationship. If sex is something you have been craving, I am not averse to exploring that unchartered facet, but I do feel strongly about my cultural identity in that realm.” Erestor’s hands were shaking by the time he finished speaking.

“I have to really think about everything I learned tonight,” said Glorfindel. “I would be giving up an important part of my identity, but you would be gaining what seems to be an important part of yours.”

“This is why I never asked you, never told you. I am happy with what we have,” Erestor said. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. 

“This has been a long day,” recognized Glorfindel. “I believe everyone else is in bed. Would you do me the honor of joining me? I promise I will not exceed loving snuggles.”

Erestor smiled. “I have no worries about that, husband. You have always been a gentleman.” 

The pair walked up the stairway to their bedroom. They could hear Celebrimbor being lectured by Maedhros and Fingon behind the door of that room. On the other side of the hallway, only muffled voices, but seemingly, it was Beleg and Túrin giving Mairon advice. It was when they passed the door of the room that Tuor and Voronwë shared that a low moan stopped them.

“That is new,” remarked Erestor.

Glorfindel stared at the door. “Very new,” he admitted. The walk was slightly harder now, and there was a bulge in his pants.

Erestor opened the door to their room. “I think the walls are thick enough that we shall not hear them.” And, it was true--the sounds of lovemaking from Voronwë and Tuor were not noticeable once Glorfindel and Erestor were in their room with the door shut.

The sounds from Edrahil and Finrod were.

“How is it that we can hear them, but not those two?” wondered Glorfindel as he and Erestor were changing into nightclothes. 

“The shared washroom,” said Erestor. “Instead of solid walls, there are those two doors, so we are going to hear them better. Also, they are much, much louder.”

Two hours later, both of them lying in bed, the sounds from Edrahil and Finrod had not ceased. Each time it seemed they were nearly done, there would be a pause, and the sounds of groaning and grunting, not to mention the smacking of the headboard into the wall, were heard by Glorfindel as he was attempting to fall asleep. After a particularly robust shout of ‘Yes! Deeper! Deeper! Ride me!”, Glorfindel whimpered and nudged at Erestor’s shoulder with his fingertips. 

“Erestor?”

“Hmmhh?”

“Erestor?”

“What?”

“Erestor, how short does someone need to cut their hair?”

“F’what?”

“For sex.”

Erestor pulled the blankets up to partially cover his head. “Depends.”

“For me. Hypothetically,” Glorfindel said quickly.

“Maybe to your shoulders.”

“Covering my shoulders, or, not covering my shoulders?”

Erestor mumbled something and tugged the blanket up over his entire head.

Glorfindel considered trying to wake Erestor again, but it seemed that the noise from Edrahil and Finrod had stopped. As Glorfindel was trying to relax (and think about anything other than sex), he heard movement in the shared washroom, followed by voices.

“Are you sure they cannot hear us?”

“If they could they would have knocked on the door and told us.”

“And you are sure we will not slip in the basin?”

“Positive. Just put the towels down like that. This way, we will not have to change the bedsheets again.”

“And...you are sure you want to put that in your mouth? Because I---oh...Oooooh!”

“You like that?”

“You are going to make me explode.”

“Goooooood. Lift your hips. Nice. Very nice. Spread your legs. Perfect. Arch your back. Mmm, yes, sexy, yes...”

“Are you sure they cannot--oooo...oooo...hhhnnn…”

Glorfindel swallowed hard and tried to muffle the sounds by putting the pillow over his head.

“You taste so good. Do you want to taste mine?”

“I…”

“You do not have to.”

“Actually...I wanted to for a while. But...can you put your fingers back inside of me while you suck on me?”

“Only if you do the same for me.”

“You would want that?”

“I want your whole hand inside of me.”

Glorfindel slammed the pillow onto the floor. He nudged at Erestor’s shoulder again. “Erestor? Erestor, do you know where there might be a pair of scissors?”

The only reply Glorfindel received was light snoring.

Sometimes, the house was boring. This was not one of those nights.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
